Darwin’s Birthday was Friday (July 25). Parts of the day really sucked, but the bulk of it was spent with just the two of us, which was really nice. I took him on the train to the city, and we hit up the Please Touch Museum and Pita Pit. Ok, he slept through Pita Pit, but still, I love eating there. That was his Birthday, and that was the day I cared about. I had fun with him.
Today was his birthday party. I hate birthday parties, especially when they are on some random day that isn’t even the persons birthday. I also hate… well, to be honest, I hated everything about this fucking party. I knew what it would be like, I saw the planning stages, and it’s just not something I’m into. Under no circumstances would I tolerate participating in something like that in exchange for some toys for Darwin if it were up to me. Of course, it isn’t up to me at all. I ordered about 30-something invitations for this party, of which 3 or 4 were for me. Rather than even mail my 3 invitations, I just sent them out through email. Well, no one I invited showed up. Not one. Am I mad? No, I’m not mad. I don’t know what I am. I guess I’m not surprised. I’ve always felt like I’m basically alone in this treacherous fucking war, and so be it. I’ll fight alone until Darwin is old and wise enough to join me by my side as an equal. Like I said, I wouldn’t have been there either if I didn’t have to be, so whatever.
Anyway, the party. It was the same old shit. The same old people that I have nothing to do with, at the same old place that I hate going. At one point some real classy bitch spilled a beer into the tray holding Darwin’s freshly cut birthday cake (that took his Mother and I over an hour to decorate). Why the fuck is beer even at a childs first birthday party? If you’d rather be at a fucking kegger, go find one assholes! I swear, when I saw that bottle tip into his cake my fists clenched and I pictured myself opening my mouth full of sharp fangs and breathing fire like Godzilla x 10! I wanted to raze that whole scene, and just blow the ashes down the bullshit cookie cutter suburban street that it sits on.
Darwin didn’t get a very good nap earlier in the day either, so he got pretty tired, and therefore a little cranky. But of course you can’t just take him home and let the poor child rest. Ooohh no, he has to stay there in case anyone wants to gawk at him between the mouthfuls of beer and free food. Who is the priority here anyway? Should the birthday boy be miserable at his own party for the sake of some guests (several of whom were not welcome by either parent)? Or should everyone just have to fucking deal with it when the kid is tired and has to go home?
Whatever, I’m done. Next year will probably be exactly the same. Fuck it.
PS. That photo was taken as I got home. It was the best thing I saw all day.
